


In the Name of Science

by WhiskerBiscuit



Category: Sonic the Hedgehog (2020)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Background Relationships, Emotional Abuse, Experimentation, Implied/Referenced Gore, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Movie Spoilers, Panic Attacks, Unethical Experimentation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:41:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22868041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhiskerBiscuit/pseuds/WhiskerBiscuit
Summary: Tom and Maddie didn't make it in time to rescue Sonic from Robotnik. Hopefully they're going to make up for it by finding him now. Unfortunately, hope is hard to come by in the labs of the mad doctor himself.
Relationships: Dr. Eggman | Dr. Robotnik & Sonic the Hedgehog, Dr. Eggman | Dr. Robotnik/Agent Stone, Sonic the Hedgehog & Tom Wachowski
Comments: 209
Kudos: 368





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to keep most of the stuff in this fic implied if I can help it, but please watch the tags because I'm not messing around either. This is about 10% vent fic and 90% pure self-indulgence.

“You’re an astonishing little creature,” Robotnik practically purrs as he comes through the last warp ring, zeroing in on the limp hedgehog laying on the pavement. “It’ll be fun to take you back to the lab for a litany of invasive exploratory procedures.”

The people of Green Hills are crowding around as close as they dare to this terrifying spectacle of a man piloting an airship in a red onesie and the little blue thing that looks suspiciously like Crazy Carl’s Blue Devil descriptions.

“Any last words?” The scientist asks, almost mockingly.

The creature lifts his head, a last attempt at escape, but can’t do much more than blink dazedly.

“Guac…I like that word…”

And he’s out like a light again.

“I don’t have to tell you how many scientific breakthroughs have been made possible by animal testing.” Robotnik continues, either unaware or uncaring that the subject of his focus can no longer hear him. 

He presses a few buttons on his control screen, locking onto the hedgehog. “You’re being very selfish.”

The laser gun on the underside of his ship splits in two, and reassembles into a sort of pincer-like appendage. The townspeople gape and point and stare, but no one makes a move to help. This goes far beyond what they’re used to dealing with.

The pincer extends outward and clamps almost gingerly around the creature’s body, lifting him and pulling him back towards the ship. Upon contact Robotnik receives immediate biological data – heartrate, blood pressure, all the fun life stuff - and flips a switch to log it for later reference. Once the hedgehog is safely tucked away in the underbelly of the aircraft, the scientist finally seems to notice all the civilians around him.

“Move along, nothing to see here! Just your everyday government protection against terrorism and other threats. Go back to your unassuming, hillbilly lives and forget this ever happened. I’ll certainly forget all of you!”

With a dramatic flair of his hand, Robotnik takes off faster than anyone can blink. As the bystanders try to process exactly what just went down, Tom and Maddie Wachowski come sprinting onto the main street. They pause only to catch their breath and take in all the destruction.

“We’re too late!” Maddie looks like she’s about to puke. 

Tom gulps in air, trying to figure out what to do or say, but then his eyes land on the small, so-small bag of rings left forgotten in the carnage. He drops to his knees to pick them up, practically hearing Sonic’s voice asking if he’ll give up on him too.

“Maybe this time, but not forever. We just need to find him and get him out.” His hand clenches around the little bag. “He’s counting on us.”

It's not as reassuring as either of them had hoped.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is more set-up than anything, but heed the warnings. It's going to get worse before it gets better.

**Dr. Ivo Robotnik, M.D. Log 1**

_Preliminary report: Subject is 3’3”, 14.1 lbs., male. Age and maturity unknown. Vaguely resembles four-toed hedgehog from outward appearance and obvious anatomy. Fur and quill are primarily cobalt blue, with chest and stomach fur light coral peach. Blood sample taken, analysis tbc. Note: internal anatomy to be examined at later date, due to blunt trauma and related injuries._

_At 23:30 MST during transportation, subject’s heart ceased regular palpitations. Resuscitation was administered and subject was revived successfully. No other heart or organ irregularities occurred, and subject was transferred to personal laboratory at 1:56 MST for examination. About to conduct preliminary quill count and inspection at time of report._

_Subject has yet to regain consciousness since initial containment._

**End log**

................................................................................

Sonic comes to on a metal table, his face smashed against cold steel and his limbs stretched above and below him, cuffed together. He groans as the aches and pains from the fight with Eggman catches up all at once, and his body’s current position certainly isn’t helping. The hedgehog rubs his cheek against the metal, using the cold to try and ground himself so he can figure out how bad his situation is.

He doesn’t remember much beyond trying to escape at the top of the pyramid. There was heat at his back, and then everything hurt even more than it does now. So that must mean….

Something starts touching his quills. He stiffens.

“H-Hey, who’s there? What do you want?”

There’s no response, and whatever is messing with his quills moves down to their base, meeting fur and skin. Sonic gasps as the same freezing sensation from the table runs along his back. A weird high-pitched whirring fills the air as it goes along. Oh, it’s a robot doing that.

He struggles to turn his head to get a better look at this thing, but he can’t move more than a few inches. The robot continues to probe at his quills, seemingly oblivious to his response, and no matter how Sonic tries to twist and turn, nothing changes at all.

After what feels like an eternity, the robot pulls away and makes a sudden loud clicking sound. It startles the hedgehog into a jolt that he immediately regrets. His body protests, _loudly._

“Quill count: 5933.”

“What?” He asks through gritted teeth, waiting for the pounding pain to go away.

The robot doesn’t reply, but then it starts poking at his fur again. Two fingers – are they fingers? Sonic hopes they’re fingers – find a longer quill and pinch at its base. He realizes what’s going to happen right before it does.

“Don’t-!”

It pulls. He sucks in a breath, closing his eyes as the quill is ripped out of his back. He’s no stranger to this sensation, but that doesn’t mean he’s okay with it happening. The robot finds another quill. Sonic flinches and rubs his cheek against the cold.

“Quill count: 5928,” the unfeeling thing announces to nothing once it’s done. It withdraws from the hedgehog who is currently trying to stay calm, holding the stolen quills and moving to some place Sonic still can’t see.

Tired, hurting, and now conflicted between angry and panicked, the teen decides to take a risk.

“Hey Eggman, I know you can hear me! Come out where I can see you! I know you’re scared of people who can kick your butt, but this is ridiculous!”

He yells it out with as much bravado as he can manage, and later he’ll say he was pretty proud of himself for keeping his voice steady. Then he listens, and waits.

For a long while he stays alone in that room, with only the robot doing whatever it’s doing to his quills. But eventually there’s the whoosh of an automatic door opening somewhere behind his left side. Sonic turns his head that way just in time for a long black coat to take up his entire view.

“Finally awake, I see.” The man says, and it’s hard to tell whether he’s pleased or annoyed by this fact. “You’ve been unconscious for nearly 8 hours.”

Sonic’s eyes trail up slowly, meeting the maniacally-gleeful face of his captor. He swallows, and it takes a few moments to find his voice again.

“D-Dang, that long? Must have been quite the beauty rest. How about you let me go so I can look myself in the mirror and tell you if it worked?”

“Just as chatty and full of hot air as your moronic human guardian. I should have expected that, which I did. Nothing ever gets past me, little alien.” 

The hedgehog falters. For a single second. “Oh yeah? Better get used to failure then, Eggman. I’ve gotten past you so many times already that I’ve lost count.”

Robotnik takes hold of his ear and twists. Sonic’s mouth clamps shut to keep the whine under his tongue, but he never takes his wide eyes off the scientist.

“Here’s how it’s going to go, _hedgehog_ – which is what you most closely resemble in physical structure and biology, despite the incredibly irrational discrepancies.”

He leans in to speak directly against the teen’s caught ear.

“I’m going to do whatever I want to you, however I want, whenever I want, and the only words I want coming out of your mouth unless stated otherwise are ‘yes Doctor,’ ‘no Doctor,’ or ‘thank you Doctor.’ Do you understand?”

Sonic takes slow, shallowed breaths as he listens, and he steels himself before offering a nickname he’s only heard Donut Lord say twice ever.

“Sure thing, Dr. Douche.”

The hand on his ear pulls so hard that he thinks it’s going to come off. He chokes back a watery whimper when Robotnik forces his head up off the table.

“Pain receptors and nerve endings appear to be fully functional, although I can’t say the same for your auditory processing.”

“Ow, ow ow…” The teen’s hands clench into fists as his head is held back and kept there. He doesn’t dare close his eyes, watching Robotnik like he might rip his ear off entirely the moment he stops staring.

Finally, the man releases him, and Sonic’s head hits the table with a thunk. He winces at the painful contact to his chin. 

“Ow-uh, easy on the face! We can’t all look this good naturally, c’mon.”

The doctor stands up straight without acknowledging him. “Agent Stone.”

“Yes, Doctor?”

The hedgehog is startled by the assistant’s voice coming somewhere behind Robotnik; he had no idea the guy was even there.

“Set up my recording equipment pronto. Now that the subject is awake and responding in a…semi-intelligent manner, I do believe it’s time to get information firsthand.”

“Of course sir, right away.” Agent Stone’s voice is already fading as he leaves the room. The sound of equipment being shuffled starts up distantly.

Robotnik’s gloved hand returns to Sonic’s head and he flinches, but this time the touch is light and almost examining. He rubs his thumb and forefinger on either side of the teen’s ear, then trails down to run along the fur on top of his head. Sonic realizes with no small amount of disgust that he’s being petted, like what Tom does with Ozzie.

“Hey, quit it, I’m not a dog!” He tries to pull his head away to no avail.

“Those are the first scientifically accurate words you’ve said thus far,” the scientist says quietly. “Although it’s _such_ a low bar. Honestly, I thought that hick cop babysitter of yours was the least sapient lifeform on this planet until you opened your mouth for the first time.”

Sonic bristles. “Don’t talk about him like that. You don’t know anything.”

“Ah, I suppose you’re right. I shouldn’t pigeonhole you in the same category as that knuckle-dragger. You are so much more remarkable than that. A peak product of evolution. Well…physically, at least, but it isn’t so difficult to train animals.”

The hand hasn’t stopped petting him. Sonic feels a sick pit in his stomach, and it’s not just from the betraying urge to lean into the touch.

“If you think I’m going to roll over and do what you want, you’re wrong. I’ll get out of here somehow and then you’re going to regret it.”

“That’s the spirit I like to see! Makes the end result so much more satisfying when I’ve broken it.” Robotnik tilts his head to meet the teen’s anxious glare head-on. Then he half turns away to call out. “Stone! Are you finished yet, or do we need to set aside another eternity?”

“All set and ready to go, sir!” Comes the response from the other room. “The holding pen is prepped and secure as well!”

“Excellent, finally. It’s so hard to find decent human help these days.” 

He presses a few buttons on his left glove. A pair of floating egg-like robots appear and connect to Sonic’s restraints, releasing him from the table and lifting him up between them. The hedgehog tries futilely to kick out or make them drop him. Robotnik leads the way towards the other room, not giving his captive a second glance.

“Now the time for pointless chit-chat is over! Time for proper scientific observation!”

All Sonic can do is struggle as he’s carried away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought Robotnik would be really hard to characterize, but I'm having an easier time with him than expected. Maybe it's cause Sonic is the one fighting me at every turn, heh. 
> 
> Also, remember how in the movie Sonic supposedly stopped breathing and then got revived cause of his powers and friendship? Yeah, me too :)
> 
> Thanks for reading, hope you enjoy!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up, things start getting a little more tense this chapter. Not super violent or anything, but definitely.....unpleasant.

**Dr. Ivo Robotnik, M.D. Log 2**

_Subject regained consciousness at 10:12 MST during initial quill examination, and was verbally hostile upon contact with lead scientist (Dr. Ivo Robotnik, M.D., PhDx5). Subject placed in temporary holding enclosure for injury recovery as well as spoken interview, which was conducted at 10:30 MST. Transcript attached below._

................................................................................

Sonic is brought into a much larger room than the one he’d woken up in. From his position between the two floating egg-robots, he can see that this one is set up with a lot of strange machines and tables and equipment that he couldn’t possibly hope to recognize, much less name. It almost looks like a secret evil lab from one of Tom and Maddie’s movies.

This association is what really makes the reality of the situation sink in.

“Hey, uh, what’s that?” He stares at a giant tube-looking thing in the corner, trying to distract himself from darker thoughts.

Robotnik ignores him, fiddling with his recording equipment, but Agent Stone follows his gaze.

“That’s an MRI machine.”

“Oh. What’s that do?”

“It’s a –”

“I know you’re having a splendid time fraternizing with the alien lifeform, Stone, but the most important homo sapiens in your life would very much enjoy your full attention.”

“Of course Doctor, sorry!” The assistant practically prances to his boss’ side, a goofy smile on his face. Sonic doesn’t understand any of it.

Turns out it doesn’t matter either way, because the hedgehog is suddenly carried above a large metal container with an open top. With another flick of the scientist’s wrist, the robots drop Sonic and he hits the inside of the pen, hissing as all his bruises are aggravated. The ceiling door closes automatically with a whoosh.

The teen makes a few pained noises while he tries to reorient himself. He’s always healed pretty quickly but this hasn’t been nearly enough time since the fight, and his entire body is revolting. He picks himself up into a sitting position as best he can to get a better look at his situation.

He’s in a cage large enough for him to lay down and stretch in any angle, but it’s not much bigger than that. Most of the walls barring one are thick mesh with thick metal reinforcing them from behind, and half the floor is the same. The other half is covered in something that looks suspiciously like a dog bed. The ceiling is just solid metal with no mesh, and it’s roughly the same proportion as the length and width.

Sonic scoots to the front of the cage so he can watch his human captors through the single “open” wall, if bars he can only stick one finger between counts as open. His restraints are weird – they sort of resemble his rings, circled around each individual wrist and ankle and keeping them together in a way he hasn’t quite figured out yet. He tries to pull them apart without much luck.

Robotnik seems to notice the attempt, because he waves a hand in the air without turning towards the hedgehog.

“Don’t bother! Those are highly magnetic and in tune only with each other.”

“….What’s ‘magnetic’?”

“Ugh, never mind.” The scientist does a little whirl to face the cage, holding a microphone connected to the machine behind him. He taps the mic and nods in satisfaction when it echoes. “Agent Stone, start the recording procedure please.”

The assistant gives affirmation as he flips a switch. Mechanical humming fills the air. Robotnik clears his throat.

“Log date: May 14th, 2020, 10:30 am MST. First official verbal interview with extraterrestrial subject, serial designation 06231991. It is unknown whether subject will be verbally hostile, so any redacted statements during this recording will be result of vulgarity and/or dialogue irrelevant to scientific development.”

He steps up to the cage, which sits just below his eyelevel, and observes Sonic a moment. The teen stares warily back.

“Subject, do you have a title you refer to yourself as?”

“Um…”

The man heaves a giant, put-upon sigh. “A name?”

“Oh. S-Sonic. I’m Sonic.” He kicks himself for tripping over his own name. This is just talking, why is it making him nervous?

“Sonic.” Robotnik says the word like he’s about to rip it to shreds. “So, Sonic, what would you say you are?”

“A hedgehog.”

“Did you base that name on the Earth creature sharing similar features?”

“No? I’ve always been a hedgehog.” Sonic lets himself relax a little bit. It really is just talking; he can do that just fine. “S’not my fault you guys named something after me.”

“I see. How long have you been on Earth?”

“Ten years.”

“How old are you?”

“Thirteen, I think.”

The scientist pauses at that, tilting his head down a little bit in a way that’s hard to read. “Really? You’ve been on Earth for most of your life?”

“Yeah…”

“Remarkable. Living here all this time right under our noses.” He strokes his mustache with a glint in his eye. “If only I’d discovered your presence sooner, everything would have been so much cleaner.”

Sonic’s fingers curl together.

“Oh well, no need to dwell on what could’ve been, until I finally unravel the science behind time travel at least.” Robotnik lets out an arrogant laugh. Stone mirrors him from behind. “So my elusive little subject, what’s the maturation rate of your kind?”

“What?”

“Hmm. You really don’t know much of anything, do you?”

It’s said with such a belittling sneer that the teen averts his eyes for a moment, feeling his face flush.

“Least I don’t dress like a bad guy from the Matrix,” he can’t help but mumble. His captor’s eyebrow twitches.

“My aesthetic is downright prodigious, thank you very much. But we’re getting off-topic! I asked about your maturation rate, you’re not smart enough to figure out what that means from the context clues, and frankly I’m getting bored by all this hands-off interaction for the sake of formal procedure. Would you say you’re closer in relative age to a child, adolescent, or adult?”

“I don’t – I don’t know, maybe teenager? Maybe?” Sonic hates that he doesn’t know, that he has no reference for knowing. He doesn’t even have the confidence to pretend that he does.

“Oh, really. That’s very interesting.”

The hedgehog feels every quill stand up on end at Robotnik’s suddenly subdued voice. He watches as the man’s expression morphs into manic contemplation. Agent Stone seems to sense the change, because he turns off the machine that’s recording their conversation.

“You’re an adolescent then. Thirteen years old, hiding here on this planet for whatever reason, honestly I don’t really care what sort of sob story you’re peddling but I have no doubt it exists. It’s no wonder you’re so ignorant.”

“I’m not ignorant!” He raises his voice like that will help prove his point.

“Oh, but you are. An obtuse, uneducated little creature that exists in a place it does not belong. Tell me, how many humans have you made direct contact with? Let someone see the real you, had a two-way conversation on equal footing…given physical contact.”

Robotnik lifts his hand and presses one finger against the bars, as if pretending he’s petting Sonic’s head again. The teen inches away towards the back of the cage, practically baring his teeth.

“Stop it.”

“Answer the question, hedgehog.”

“No! It’s none of your beeswax anyway, so back off!”

The scientist throws back his head and cackles. He comes down from his mirth fairly quickly and wipes a tear from his eye. “Everything about you is my ‘beeswax’, my pokey little fellow. I own you. I own your powers, your thoughts, your feelings, all of it. I’m astounded it hasn’t sunk in yet.”

“Cause it’s not true, Eggman! I’m me, and that’s it!”

The air around Sonic starts crackling. Robotnik places a hand in his pocket.

“Is that what your flatfoot nursemaid told you? Thank god I got you away from such fictitious foolishness, who knows what other absurdities he was filling your spiky little head with.”

_“I told you not to talk about him like that!”_

Full of angry energy, Sonic launches off of his heel and rams into the front bars in the same moment Robotnik pulls out a remote and presses a single button. Electricity that doesn’t belong to the hedgehog lights up the entire cage, leaving Sonic to experience the full brunt of it with his whole body pressed against metal. He stiffens up with a wordless cry and loses both his momentum and the power coursing through him.

It discharges outward and short-circuits whatever was generating the voltage running through the pen, saving the convulsing teen from further pain. He’s twitching so much that he doesn’t even notice the ceiling door open up again, nor the floating robot that drops inside to pull away several more quills. They’re still pulsing with energy.

Robotnik closes the door behind the robot as it leaves, then turns to regard his subject who’s making little mewling noises as his muscles seize against his will. He rolls his eyes at the display because really, the voltage was _not_ that high. It didn’t even last more than a few seconds because of the creature’s rude outburst creating that blackout in his beautiful container.

He signals to Agent Stone, who is quick to turn on the recorder again.

“Note: next question involved reasons for subject’s existence on Earth and opinion on humans, at which time subject became hostile and attempted assault. No harm came to present researchers due to precautionary measures, and subject has been successfully and safely contained. Verbal interview will be postponed for later date until subject recovers and is more willing to discuss reasons for coming here without becoming violent.”

The man shuts off his mic and passes it to his assistant, yawning with a hand pressed to his mouth.

“Walk with me, Stone. I do believe it’s a fine time for sleep, now that all the immediate excitement is over.”

“Yes, sir!”

They leave the quivering hedgehog alone with the hum of a million machines and state-of-the-art security. Halfway down the hallway, Robotnik stops.

“Oh, just a moment.” He taps his gloves a few times and something whirrs to life back in the room. “There we go!”

“Sir?”

“Almost forgot to set up a sustenance bot for the little thing. I’m so used to wonderful, unfeeling robots with no need for constant nourishment, it’s easy to forgot that these fragile organic bodies require food and water, ha!”

“Uh…but Doctor, you’re also –”

“Don’t remind me of things I don’t like being reminded of, Stone!” The scientist snaps. He runs a careful hand through his hair and straightens his jacket rather prissily. “Anyway, you said something earlier about lunch being Argentina-inspired?”

Stone beams and his shoulders lift with pride. “Yep! Milanesa a la napolitana with a sprinkling of oregano and curry powder. Should be done within an hour.”

“God, that sounds lovely. In the mean time I’ll be setting up some analysis programs for the blood and quill samples and making another written log report. _Do not_ disturb me unless I either call you directly or lunch is done.”

“Of course, sir.” Stone hustles down the hall and makes a right turn. Robotnik turns left.

“Now then,” he says gleefully to himself, rubbing his hands together as he plops down in his Important Analysis Chair. “Let’s get this spiky ball rolling!”

................................................................................

_Additional quill samples taken after verbal interview to compare dormant and active power input of subject. It is predicted that while the active quills contain infinitely higher levels of energy, dormant quills are still capable of significant power._

_After full physical recovery is reached, more thorough examinations of anatomy will be administered as well as analysis of speed, endurance, and power production. In the interim, behavioral training will begin in earnest. Subject has demonstrated capability to defer to proper authority with enough prompting._

_Goal by end of week is to not need prompting._

**End log**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, I’ve been SUPER busy this week. Hope the longer chapter made up for it though! As stated above, things are going to get a lot worse before they get better, so just make sure you’re aware of that going in.
> 
> Also, originally I was going to have a side-by-side of Tom and Maddie working to find Sonic, but then I realized I have no idea how to make that work. If anyone has suggestions feel free to let me know, otherwise it’s going to be solely Sonic and Robotnik focus until (if) he’s rescued.
> 
> Thanks for reading, and have a good one!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :(

**Dr. Ivo Robotnik, M.D. Log 3**

_Subject has been given time to rest. Recovery appears to be more rapid than previously speculated, as subject is active and aggressive with and without scientists present. Full anatomy examination to be conducted soon._

_Behavioral training has begun._

**End log**  
..................................................................................

Sonic comes to on a metal surface with his face smushed against cold steel. He hopes it won’t become a pattern.

With a few careful breathes he takes stock of himself. Tired, sore but not as sore as before that _horrible_ shock. The lab is dark and quiet – well, mostly. As much as one can be with humming, blinking machines everywhere – and the hedgehog realizes he must have been out for a few hours at least. With a start he also realizes his limbs are no longer bound together.

He pulls himself up to a sitting position immediately, staring at the four silver metal rings set tight around his wrists and ankles. There’s no indication that they can attach to each other, but just to be safe he tries to keep his limbs apart as he inspects the rest of himself.

Still in the cage? Check. Still hurting from the fight and everything since? Double check. Still planning to get out of here, especially now that the Eggman and his crazy assistant aren’t around? Triple check Sunday with a cherry on top.

The teen carefully gets to his feet, grateful for the returned movement, and notices two new additions to his little prison. They look like giant bottles hanging upside down the front mesh of the cage, with thin nozzles sticking through to the inside. Sonic warily edges near them, pausing after each step to see if it’s some awful trap the scientist has set for him. Nothing happens even as he gets close enough to touch them. With a little more hesitation he reaches out and taps the end of one nozzle. His glove comes back wet.

“Uh…?” He rubs his thumb against the damp spot, puzzled, then turns to the other bottle. A quick touch finds the tip of his finger stained in something green-brown and mushy.

Sonic sniffs it gingerly. It’s got a weird, almost oatmeal smell that he only recognizes cause the town hosted a big breakfast event one summer day and he gorged himself from the food line every time people’s backs were turned. The hedgehog realizes with disgust that it’s supposed to be food, that these bottles are meant to feed and water him like some kind of pet.

He smacks the mesh angrily but they don’t budge, so then he starts pushing and pulling at the nozzles, hoping to dislodge them or break them or do _something_ at least. They rattle in mockery, making the teen even more upset.

Dropping to his back, Sonic lifts his feet up in a biker position and kicks the two spigots hard. Something responds with a loud creak, so he kicks again, and again, until finally the water bottle flies clean off its hinges and falls to the ground in a crash of metal and water. The hedgehog freezes, suddenly nervous instead of indignant. His ears swivel every direction in case Robotnik or a robot appears out of nowhere to hurt him. He’s barely breathing.

As the seconds turn into a minute or more without anything happening, Sonic lets out a slow puff of air and rubs his face.

“Great, Sonic, just great. Way to cause a mess you can’t explain away. Do you _want_ the deranged lunatic to shock you again or do you just enjoy his company? – No, don’t answer that, it’s rhetorical. I know it’s rhetorical, I’m not an idiot! Clearly you are if you’re doing stupid stuff like _this!_ ”

He gestures to the mess on the floor, and it’s only then that he realizes he’s started pacing. The teen stops himself, pressing a palm to his forehead.

“Okay so obviously I need a little self-control here if I’m gonna find a way out. Wait, did that make a weakness in the cage?”

Sonic pats the mesh where the bottle used to sit. He makes a loud noise in frustration as it’s obvious the screen won’t budge.

“So that’s a bust. Busted plan, not busted cage or I’d be out of here by now. Okay, hmm…”

His eyes drift to the other bottle and his stomach gurgles. He can’t remember the last time he’s eaten. Probably with Tom. The thought of the human sends something sharp through his chest that he has to stuff down real fast. Now isn’t the time for that.

Instead, he experimentally lays back down and lifts his feet again. With only a moment of hesitation, he jams them against the other nozzle. Forget his hunger. Forget getting in trouble. If he can weaken the wall now and get out, none of it will matter anyway.

It takes a few more kicks than last time to knock this bottle loose – probably because he’s not running on outrage anymore – but soon it joins its duplicate in a loud clatter. Sonic grimaces at the sound but hops up to test the mesh again.

Still nothing.

Frustrated with a growing sense of panic, the teen gets back down and starts kicking directly at the metal wiring. It barely yields, only giving Sonic a horrible backlash of vibrations through his feet for the effort. A growl sticks in his throat as he tries again.

It’s a long time before he’s too exhausted to kick anymore.

................................................................................

Robotnik sits at his personal desk with five monitors up. Two of them are running comparative analyses on the quill and blood samples he’s obtained. The third has diagrams of all seventeen different hedgehog species and their anatomies. The fourth is a series of videos of animal trainers offering tips for more rowdy animals, as well as accounts of former human psychological techniques meant to restrain and subdue, usually in old asylums and prisons.

The last monitor is video feed of the alien hedgehog himself, and everything he’s been getting up to.

He had been in and out of consciousness for the first four hours after Robotnik had departed, as the heart rate monitor in his wrist restraints indicated. Most likely his body had been overwhelmed by the stress and had forced a recovery shut down. Then he’d woken up completely at nearly 3 pm.

And what a ruckus he’s created since then.

The scientist strokes his mustache, attention entirely on the video feed for the time being. After breaking off the nutrient feeders (an unnecessary cry for attention, if you ask the doctor) the little creature had pounded at the front of the cage for nearly twenty minutes. He’d dropped flat on his back for a while, panting like a dog, before getting to his feet and running in a circle within one side of the pen.

Whether he’d been planning to try and break through the metal with his body’s speed alone or some other ridiculous plan, it didn’t matter in the end. Because Robotnik had coded those restraints to record velocity, and once they reached a certain threshold their magnetic fields would respond.

This was demonstrated directly when the hedgehog’s ankles were pulled together and he crashed into the far wall. It was a remarkable impact, all things considered.

That was about two minutes ago. Now the man watches as the restraints are deactivated, leaving the alien still half-laying where he hit the ground but definitely aware of the change, if his flicking ears are anything to go by.

“Doctor, I have the items you requested.” Stone’s voice calls confidently from behind.

Robotnik takes one more moment to marvel this creature’s candid personality and behavior, from his position as a hidden observer. Then he leans back in the chair until he’s practically horizontal with his head upside down. He meets his assistant’s gaze.

“Fantastic. Let’s not waste any more time.”

He swivels around and rocks forward out of the chair, his momentum pushing him to his feet and up into Stone’s personal space. He holds his hand out expectantly and the other man obliges, dropping the objects into his open palm. A quick glance tells the scientist they’re exactly as specified.

Without another word the doctor heads down to the main laboratory. He notes with glee how the hedgehog scrambles to attention when he enters the room.

“You’re looking much healthier this afternoon,” he comments, already seeing improvement in the creature’s posture and stance. Then he pretends to notice the broken nutrient feeders for the first time. “Well. Much more active too apparently.”

Sonic tenses. There’s a slight dilation in his pupils that the man almost smiles at – a fear response already, good news. But then he crosses his arms and lifts his chin, still too defiant.

“Yeah? You gotta p-problem with that? It’s just how I roll.”

“On the contrary, I’m delighted by it.”

“What?” The alien’s arms almost drop in his bewilderment. Robotnik tilts his head and purrs.

“Well of course. I want to see what makes you tick, and your behavior is part of that. Not to mention that _stunning_ energy you’ve displayed. I cannot wait to harness it to its fullest potential.”

He watches the way his subject’s mouth works, every twitch of confusion and revulsion and beautiful intelligence. Not on par with him of course, nothing in the universe will ever reach that level, but there’s something so thrilling about interacting with a lifeform from beyond Earth that has given him a literal run for his money.

It’s on this thought that he brings the objects in his hands out in the open. The hedgehog’s eyes lock on to them with the most wide, alarmed expression he’s shown thus far, which is honestly quite the accomplishment given the last half-day.

“I take it you know what these are.”

The alien swallows, and his hands are clenched tight. He doesn’t respond.

“Tell me what you think these are.” It’s an order, the first of many planned.

Sonic takes a deep breath and points at the item in the scientist’s left hand. His arm stays close to his body. “That’s a….that’s a collar.”

“So it is.”

He turns the thing over, letting his subject get a good look at it. The collar is black with the Robotnik logo splashed across in red. Most notable however, is the fairly large black box attached to the center of it, as well as the shiny set of silver dog tags dangling just under them. One finger taps the box.

“Do you know what this does?”

The hedgehog shakes his head. He’s looking rather pale now.

“It’s designed to administer a shock under certain circumstances, the parameters of which will be decided by me. No doubt you remember the one you received earlier today.”

His ears flatten. Robotnik smiles.

“Do you recognize the other object?”

The doctor wiggles his right hand, drawing Sonic’s attention there. He starts trembling just a bit as he stares.

“It’s – that’s a, that’s…” The alien trails off, either struggling to remember the word or not wanting to verbalize it.

“What’s the matter, cat got your tongue? Feeling stifled? _Gagged,_ maybe?” He lifts the other item under two fingers, giving it a little shake as part of the joke. “Remember when I told you I expected nothing out of your mouth unless it’s a response to a direct question? We’re going to practice that.”

Robotnik outright revels in the sudden retreat his subject tries to make from the muzzle in the man’s hand, backing up against the far side of his pen like distance alone will have an effect.

“No…” He whispers. There’s something very vulnerable in his voice, something that goes beyond the idea of physical restraint. “No, no no no.”

“Save your heart-wrenching pleas for someone who has one.” The doctor says coldly, already pressing a few buttons to activate the hedgehog’s magnetic bonds.

Sonic’s wrists come together, as do his ankles, and he loses his balance immediately. He hits the ground on his left side but doesn’t stop struggling to shimmy away nor cease his begging.

“You know, perhaps I would’ve considered only using the collar for the time being, but then you had to be an absolute _brat_ and destroy perfectly functional equipment. Act like an animal, I’ll treat you like an animal. Only fair don’t you think?”

Robotnik makes an irritated noise as his gloating is met with an increased volume of ‘no’ being repeated like a protective mantra. Not that he doesn’t love the groveling, but really. Gloating’s only fun when someone can appreciate it. He sighs and sends a few drones into the cage’s ceiling hatch.

The little hedgehog sees them coming and does the only thing he has left – he curls into a ball, every quill straightened up to create a deadly sphere. It doesn’t help much when the drones hover near enough for his restraints to yank his limbs out into the open, attaching themselves to the robots against all his best efforts.

He’s screaming now.

The robots drag him halfway out of the hatch, leaving his legs dangling in the cage. As Robotnik approaches he can see tears forming in Sonic’s eyes. It gives the scientist pause.

“You are…remarkably impacted by the concept of this. I wonder.” He transfers the muzzle and collar to one hand. The other hand shoots out to grab the teen’s snout, causing him to freeze in shock. “What about it frightens you so? Is it the further loss of body autonomy, or something else?”

His subject’s gaze scatters away from Robotnik’s face for a moment before coming back just as pitifully.

“Please,” he’s back to whispering. “Please, don’t. _Please._ ”

The doctor leans in close, letting the hedgehog feel his breath on his fur and see the utter contempt in his own eyes. He holds him like that for a long moment, and Sonic visibly shudders at it all.

“You don’t get the privilege of begging anymore.”

Sonic’s pupils blow wide. He opens his mouth to scream.

**_“NO–”_ **

Robotnik jams the muzzle against his face, pressing cold metal into his cheeks and cutting off the wail so fast it leaves eerie silence in its wake. His drones make short work of pulling the Kevlar straps through razer-sharp quills to fasten together where the organic scientist cannot reach. The collar comes next and is almost harder simply because of how much the alien is thrashing.

But it’s soon secured as well, leaving a shaking, near-sobbing teen with his arms stretched above his head and his head still held by his captor. Robotnik drums his fingers against the metal wrapped around Sonic’s face, causing a harsh flinch each time.

“I think this looks quite fetching. Perhaps I should consider keeping it on even outside of training.”

The hedgehog closes his eyes with a whine. The man strokes his mustache.

“Mm, but perhaps not. It all depends on your behavior from here on out.” He checks the time. “For now though, I’d say the rest of the day should be enough to teach you the meaning of the word ‘silence’. What do you think?”

Sonic shakes his head.

“Rest of the day it is! Oh, and let’s not forget to get your sustenance feeders back up, hmm? It will be much more difficult to eat and drink like this, but I’m sure you’ll figure something out with that clever little mind of yours.”

A flick of his wrist and the drones drop Sonic back into his pen. The teen scrambles away from the front, into the far corner on the bed side.

“I don’t trust you not to try and take off the extra accessories prematurely either, so your restraints will remain active for a while yet. Not that it matters, because if I find out you tried to break anything else – the feeders, the muzzle, the collar, anything – then the shock I gave you earlier will feel like a tickle. Got that through your thick skull?”

Robotnik waits until he gets a slow, defeated nod before turning away. Something tells him the quill and blood sample analysis is complete, and he doesn’t want to miss a single detail.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, sorry it took so long. With everything going on right now I went to stay with family, and it has been a _lot_ harder to get time to write around family than I thought ehehe. Hopefully the longer chapter makes up for it.
> 
> Sorry if Sonic seems OOC for this one, but I was thinking a lot about how his second greatest weapon after his speed is his motor mouth. This lad uses it to fill the void when no one else is there, and I'd imagine (at least for Movie Sonic) that losing that ability is just as terrifying as losing his speed.
> 
> On a technical note, I've decided to keep the focus on Sonic for this fic, and not Tom and Maddie. The original plan was to show them working to find him, but that wasn't working out so well in the end, so it's gonna be pain train all the way through. I really appreciate the suggestions from everyone, thank you!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for detailed panic attack. Tags are updated.

When Sonic was seven years old, he’d found a baby bird that had fallen out of its nest. It was so small that he was able to hold it in one hand despite his own size, and he’d carefully inched his way up the tree it belonged to, too afraid of dropping it if he moved too fast.

Maybe it was because the chick had been struggling for so long already, but all it was able to do in his hold was weakly bob its head and hold its mouth open, for food or for pity. No sound had come out of it the entire way back to its nest.

The idea had scared Sonic that day, of being too weak or helpless to do anything more than what that baby bird had done. His memory of it had mostly faded beyond subconscious fear.

It’s not subconscious any longer.

He presses up against the back of his cage, feeling the horrible weight of the things around his face and his neck and wanting nothing more than to get them off. But he can’t, because his hands are still stuck together, and he’s so scared, so scared of what the doctor is going to do to him if he tries anyway.

His mouth is clamped shut in a way that makes his teeth not quite lock right. No matter how he tries to adjust it, they remain in that same position and do nothing more than remind him of the muzzle as his cheeks bump against it with every movement.

At least he didn’t bite his tongue.

This isn’t a reassuring thought, because he can’t say it out loud like usual. If he can’t say it out loud, then he can’t reassure himself. It doesn’t feel real if it’s not something he can hear. There’s no guarantee it’s real. There’s no guarantee any of his thoughts are real if he can’t –

If he can’t –

He can’t breathe.

Sonic’s hands fly up to the muzzle and start pulling at it frantically. His panic rises as it refuses to budge. He jerks his head forward, side to side, slams it backwards against the wall and yanks as hard as he can. The tears in his eyes finally spill over as he begins hyperventilating. It won’t come off, it’s not coming off!

Another whine escapes him. He jumps to his feet then takes one step and crashes hard on his face, having forgotten his bound ankles in his frenzy. The clang of metal on metal plus the painful smashing of his snout has him crying out wordlessly, unable to articulate anything beyond fear and distress.

He can’t run and he can’t move and he can’t speak and he can’t breathe and he’s going to die here like this, oh god why did he ever think he’d get out of this alive? He can’t, he can’t, he can’t!

His fingers aren’t really grasping the muzzle anymore. His thoughts are dissolving into static. Black spots dance in his vision like terrible mocking figures.

The teen writhes against the floor, thrashing and kicking mindlessly in his panic attack. At one point his feet connect with the wall so hard it jolts pain up through him like lightning. He gasps and whimpers through clamped teeth. It’s barely enough to snap him back into his body, momentarily. His heart is still trying to break out of his chest and his breathing is erratic and keeping him lightheaded, but he’s more aware of these sensations again.

An image comes to mind. It’s Pretzel Lady standing on her back deck, body straight and arms held in front of her. She’s listening to a recording of ocean waves and chimes. Her breathing is controlled and deliberate. Her eyes are closed.

In desperation, he does the same, trying to repeat the motions he’d watch Pretzel Lady do a thousand times. Breathe in, hold, breathe out, hold. It’s hard; he’s still panting way too fast to really control it. But he keeps trying. In, hold, out, hold.

The static peters out. The black spots disappear. He stops thrashing and instead simply lays there, eyes closed and breathing all he can do to keep the panic at bay. Slowly, very slowly, Sonic relaxes. He’s exhausted, but the worst of the attack is over – for now – and he doesn’t have the energy to think about anything else.

It feels like an eternity later that he stirs from his lethargy. Sitting up sucks and leaves him dizzy, so he leans back against the back of the cage with half-lidded eyes and just…exists. His hands and feet are no longer magnetized together, but he doesn’t remember when that happened. The metal around his mouth isn’t cold anymore. He doesn’t know how to feel about that, and he doesn’t want to think about it, so he stops doing both.

Instead he thinks about Donut Lord and Pretzel Lady. They probably have no idea where he is. Probably don’t even realize he’s been captured. The tears are threatening to spill again, so Sonic wipes his eyes as best he can and tries to turn it positive. He’d saved them from falling to their deaths – a situation he’d caused, but no one was keeping track of that anyway – and now they’re safe back in Green Hills.

If they’re safe, that’s what matters. He’d dragged them both into this mess. It’s only fair they get out even if he doesn’t.

He recycles this thought in his mind like a mantra, as loud as he can manage. It’s no substitute for speaking, but he’s determined to make it work. If he spirals again he doesn’t think he’ll be able to snap out of it.

So he sits against the wall, still and quiet and weary.

................................................................................

Robotnik comes striding in a few hours later, the smug sneer on his face implying he knows _exactly_ what was going on earlier.

“Well, well, well. The kick’s really been taken out of you, hasn’t it?” He strokes his mustache and peers into the cage. “Who would’ve thought that all that I needed to calm you down was this?”

A broad gesture is made with his hand towards the entire setup, but they both know what he’s referring to. Sonic curls in on himself.

“Do you want it off?”

The hedgehog makes a bitter, forlorn noise. He doesn’t want to give this man the satisfaction of begging again, but he can’t handle having the muzzle on any longer either. Defeatedly he nods.

“Lovely!” Robotnik snaps his fingers and within an instant a pair of egg drones are hovering above the pen. “No struggling, now, or I’ll take it as a sign that you want the thing to stay indefinitely.”

Sonic shakes his head frantically, his eyes wide and alarmed. He stays as still as he can when the ceiling hatch pops open and the robots drop through. They pull his arms up by his restraints and lift him so he’s dangling the same way he’d been when the muzzle had first been put on.

The scientist’s hand goes for his face, and Sonic stiffens at the action. Fingers grip the muzzle as his other hand reaches behind quills. It pauses just outside of their range.

“We’re going to try an experiment in obedience. I’m going to undo the straps around your head without robotic assistance, and you _aren’t_ going to stiffen your quills while I do so.”

He gives the muzzle a good jerk, causing the teen to flinch violently and whimper a nervous agreement. Satisfied by the answer, Robotnik's free hand buries itself in blue to find the clasps. It takes about ten seconds and Sonic hates every moment of it. But he manages to keep his quills loose and non-deadly throughout.

The muzzle comes off with a final click and the doctor steps away with it in his hands. Sonic immediately starts panting with his mouth open, his jaw sore and his mind feeling significantly less trapped.

“That wasn’t so difficult, now was it?”

Robotnik gives him a few head pats, earning another flinch. When the hedgehog goes to respond however, he’s met with a raised eyebrow and a subtle lifting of the muzzle. Paling, his mouth clicks shut. This causes the man to laugh in a way that sounds more like a scoff.

“Ah, so he _can_ learn! Look at the progress we’ve made with just half a day, how remarkable.” The way he says it implies the scientist is praising himself more than Sonic. “Though, I do think that’s more than enough excitement for now.”

The robots release the teen and he collapses into the cage with a grunt. His body isn’t hurting nearly as much as this morning, but it still sucks. The shadow of the mad doctor covers the front as he examines the food and water bottles.

“I see you haven’t touched either of these. No doubt your appetite must be ravenous, wouldn’t you agree?”

Sonic picks himself up and draws his knees to his chest. He’s not sure if he’s supposed to answer, so he simply stays silent to be safe, but his stomach gurgles in response anyway. Robotnik observes him for a long, tense, quiet moment. The expression on his face slowly turns to something terrifying, and he taps the top of one of the bottles.

“Well? Aren’t you going to do something about that?”

The hedgehog stares at him.

“What?” He asks despite himself. The doctor only grins at the confusion, not reprimanding him for the slip-up.

“Eat! Drink! I can’t have my beautiful little specimen collapsing from malnutrition before the fun truly begins. No, no, no, that would be irritating and irresponsible. So go on.”

Sonic blanches as he realizes what is expected of him. He doesn’t want to use those weird, awful nozzles, and he definitely doesn’t want to do it with his captor watching.

“I’m…I’m not hungry.”

Robotnik gives him a look like a scolding parent. “Your biological responses beg to differ. Additionally, I have calculated that your basal metabolic rate is significantly higher than both humans and hedgehogs with your age and weight category. Therefore, it stands to reason that going at least twelve hours or more without sustenance is both dangerous and stupid.”

He leans forward and taps the bottle again.

“That isn’t even placing into consideration the factors of dehydration and recovery from injury. You are undernourished, and I will not accept that. It will skew the results of everything I have planned once you are back to full health. Come here and eat and drink. Now.”

The teen bites his lip but doesn’t move. The scientist’s mustache twitches as his face darkens.

“Do it now, or I’ll have you force-fed. Do you know what that entails?” A bemused stare. “My robots will force a tube down your throat straight to your stomach and feed you that way, mostly with liquids. I’ve heard it is extremely painful and unpleasant, but I’ve never received the opportunity to try it on anything. I highly doubt you’d like to be the first.”

Sonic’s hand flies up to his mouth, wanting to vomit just from the description.

“That’s what I thought. If you don’t want to learn firsthand, I suggest you come over here right now. I won’t ask again.”

Ears pressed flat against his skull, the hedgehog stands shakily and makes his way to the front of the pen. He looks between the bottles and Robotnik, who is watching him without a shred of mercy. Sonic swallows his pride and his angry fear and grabs one of the nozzles.

The food is bland.

................................................................................

**Dr. Ivo Robotnik, M.D. Log 4**

_Behavioral training continues with predominantly positive results._

**End Log**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi y'all. I promised I wasn't dead, and here I am! Sorry about the long wait. Spring term of college was moved online and I started a new part time job that cut out a lot of free time, so it was a struggle to balance the two and I wanted to focus on keeping my grades up. But now I'm free for the summer (mostly) and I'm ready to rumble!
> 
> I reread the fic to catch the tone again but this chapter feels a little off in a way I can't really place. If the characters don't read well please let me know, I'd really appreciate the feedback because it's driving me crazy. Also, we're going to pick up the pace for time passage from here on out. The first day is always the longest, after all.
> 
> Hope you enjoy! Please stay safe in these uncertain times and take care of yourselves!


End file.
